Tag Archives: Traditional camping

A Gobbler Dubbed “Black Bart”

Skin stung; eyes watered. The cedar bough bobbed in arrogance, celebrating its humble victory. Trail-worn elk moccasins staggered, then slowed. Thick clouds, coupled with night’s unforgiving abyss, shrouded the moon and stars. The glade demanded a heavy toll on that … Continue reading

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Only a Sentence or Two…

Daylight waned. Two gray squirrels frolicked, uphill, forty paces ahead. Half-hidden by boughs, a plump fox squirrel leaped from cedar top to cedar top. The hired hunter did not glance up, but detected the movement. A blue jay perched on … Continue reading

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A Bag of Beads and Silver

A Mini-Monday Missive… A solitary gobble beckoned. Cedar by cedar by cedar elk moccasins crept along, below the ridge crest, in the shadows. The woodsman’s course meandered east. The steep hillside leveled. Cedar trees gave way to oaks. One red … Continue reading

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In the direction whence he came…

Saturday, 17, December, 1763: Frozen oak leaves crunched. Spotty snowflakes whisk about.  Wool-lined moccasins tread light, slow and deliberate.  The still-hunt progressed into a blustery southwest wind that sliced to the bone.   Two years prior, a summer thunderstorm broke … Continue reading

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Not Much Changes…

Muffled wing beats rumbled. A reddish-brown blur rose in the grey soup of morning vapor. The fowl dropped into a thick patch of sedge grass, thirty or so paces east of its night roost. Overnight dew drenched each slender, tawny … Continue reading

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Big sigh…guilty as sinned…

A chilly breeze held mosquitoes at bay. Light dew glistened on greening grass. The autumn olives’ pungent perfume filled the glade with expectation. Damp elk moccasins pressed north, angled west, then crested a flat-topped knoll. That May, in the Year … Continue reading

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Transforming an Offending Transgression

Treetops swayed. Gusts whooshed in the barren branches. Winter moccasins, made of buffalo hide and lined with trade blanket pieces, stepped cautious. Red blanket tails, encrusted with snow, flapped against deerskin leggins. Wolf tracks wove in and around the hardwoods, … Continue reading

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No red, no snood, no gobbler…

Silvery dew drops splashed. Wool leggins whisked north. Elk moccasins whispered along an earthen doe trail. That course led to an overgrown wash and a skinny box elder tree that afforded a commanding view of a tiny break between the … Continue reading

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